Harle was waving toward the house, 'Gwennie, Gweenie, Gwennie…'a frightening grin on his face.
Neighbors' lights came on, faces appeared in windows and doorways.
Perfect, Ron thought. He makes the least gesture toward me and I'll kill him. A dozen witnesses'll back me up. He stopped two feet from Harle, on whose face the grin had fallen away.
'I got sprung. They couldn't make it stick, could they? Make it stick, make it stick, couldn't make it stick. So I. Got. Sprung.'
'You listen to me,' Ron muttered, fists balling at his side. 'You're real close. You know what I mean? I don't care if they arrest me, I don't care if they execute me. You don't leave her alone, I'm going to kill you. Understand?'
'I love my Gwennie, I love her, love her, loveher, loveher, lover, loverloverlover. She loves me, I love her she loves me I love she loves I love she loves she loves sheloves shelovessheloves-shelovessssss…'
'Come on. Take a swing at me. Come on. Coward! Haven't got the guts to mix it up like a grown-up, right? You make me sick.'
Harle uncrossed his arms.
Okay, here it comes…
Ron's heart flexed and an ocean crashed in his ears. He could feel the chill adrenaline race through his body like an electric current.
The boy turned and ran.
Son of a bitch…
'Come back here!'
He was racing down the street on his lanky legs, disappearing into the misty dusk, Ron close behind him.
For a few blocks.
Athletic, yes, but a forty-three-year-old's body doesn't have the stamina of someone's half that age and after a quarter mile the boy pulled ahead and disappeared.
Winded, his side cramping fiercely from the run, Ron trotted back to the house, climbed into his Lexus. Gasping, he shouted, 'Doris! You and Gwen stay here, lock the doors. I'm going to find him.'
She protested but he ignored her and sped out of the drive.
A half hour later, having cruised through the entire neighborhood and finding no sign of the boy, he returned home.
To find his daughter in tears.
Doris and Gwen sat in the living room, the shades down and curtains drawn. Doris held a long kitchen knife in her strong fingers.
'What?' Ron demanded. 'What's going on?'
Doris said, 'Tell your father.'
'Oh, Daddy, I'm sorry. I thought it was best.'
'What?' Ron strode forward, dropping onto the couch, gripping his daughter by her shoulders. 'Tell me!' he cried.
'He came back,' Gwen said. 'He was by the bush. And I went out to talk to him.'
'You did what? Are you crazy?' Ron shouted, shaking with rage and fear at what might have happened.
Doris said, 'I couldn't stop her. I tried, but —'
'I was afraid for you. I was afraid he'd hurt you. I thought maybe I could be nice to him and ask him please just to go away.'
Despite his horror, a burst of pride at her courage popped inside of Ron Ashberry.
'What happened?' he asked.
'Oh, Daddy, it was terrible.'
The feeling of pride faded and he sat back, staring at his daughter's white face. Ron whispered, 'Did he touch you?'
'No… not yet.'
'What do you mean, 'yet?' Ron barked.
'He said…' Her tearful face looked from her father's furious eyes to her mother's determined ones. 'He said that when it's the next full moon, that's when women get a certain way because of their, you know, monthly thing. The next full moon, he's going to find me wherever I am…' Her face grew red in shame. She swallowed. 'I can't say it, Daddy. I can't tell you what he said he'd do.'
'My God.'
'I got so scared, I ran back to the house.'
Doris, her strong-jawed face turned toward the window, added, 'And he just stood there, staring at us, kind of singing in this sick voice. We locked the doors right away.' She nodded at the knife, setting it on the table. 'I got that from the kitchen just in case.'
His wife continued. 'Then you came back and when he saw the car lights he ran off. It looked like he was headed toward his folks' house.'
Ron grabbed the phone, hit the speed dial.
'This is Ron Ashberry,' he said to the police dispatcher.
'Yessir, is it the boy again?' she asked.
'Hanlon. Now.'
A pause. 'Hold, please.'
The sheriff came on the line. 'Ron, what the hell's going on tonight? I've had four calls from your neighbors about this thing, shouting, people running around.'
Ron explained about the threats.
'It's still just words, Ron.'
'Goddamn it, I don't care about the law! He said the night of the full moon he's going to rape my little girl. What the hell do you people want?'
'When's the full moon?'
'I don't know, how would I know?'
'Hold on a second. I've got an almanac… Here we go. It's next week. We'll have somebody at your house all day. If he makes a move, we'll get him.'
'For what? Trespass? And he'll be out in, what, a week?'
'I'm sorry, Ron. It's the law.'
'You know what you and your law can do? You can go straight to hell.'
'Ron, I've told you before, if you take things into your own hands, you're going to be in serious trouble. Now good night to you.'
Ron jammed the phone into the cradle hard again and this time it flew from the wall fixture.
He shouted to Doris, 'Stay here. Keep the doors locked.'
'Ron, what are you going to do?'
'Daddy, no…'
The door slammed so hard a pane cracked and the fissure lines made a perfect spiderweb.
Ron parked on the lawn, narrowly missing a rusting Camaro and a station wagon, lime green except for the front fender, which was the matte color of dried-blood-brown primer.
Pounding on the scabby door, he shouted, 'I want to see him. Open up!'
Finally the door swung open and Ron stepped inside. The bungalow was small and it was a mess. Food, dirty plastic plates, beer cans, piles of clothes, magazines, newspapers. A strong animal pee smell too.
He pushed past the diminutive, chubby couple, both wearing jeans and T-shirts. In their late thirties.
'Mr. Ashberry,' the man said uneasily, looking at his wife.
'Is your son here?'
'We don't know. Listen, sir, we had nothing to do with him getting out of that hospital. We was all for keeping him there, as I think you know.'
